


Nobody

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Slam Poetry, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: I wake up in my bathtub. The water keeps rising.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





	Nobody

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my best friend.

I wake to the caw of a crow. Two blinks later, I find my head lying against the tile above my bathtub. Pink suds and scarlet red trails lead from my body to the drain. I don’t think much of it at first- I made a visit to Lush with a friend yesterday, then we hit the liquor store before she dropped me off at my home. I bought a rose bath bomb and a bottle of Moscato.

So I plant my hands onto the porcelain foundation to stand and turn the showerhead on. As I proceed to wash the remnants of soap off of my body, a voice echoes inside my head.

_Quit pretending._

Strands of my black hair fall into the drain as I turn the knob. Hotter- hot enough to leave marks on my skin, hot enough to burn me, hot enough to make me feel _something_. I stand there dumbly, staring down at the silver handle. I can go hotter. 

I turn the knob.

After crying it out, I retreat from my curtain to reach for my lotion and then my toothbrush. I refuse to look in my mirror- _anything but that._

That mirror can go to hell for all I care.

So I strike my fist into it. Over and over again until the glass cracks into my knuckles, until my shaking hands bleed red onto my sink. I don’t take note of the damage. I let the glass fall along with my tears, glossy and clear as I break down. Over and over again until I’m satisfied. Over and over again until my self-hatred and mental torment is replaced with physical pain.

Fuck.

It’s evening. The watercolor pink and blue sunset looms over my head.

I decide to take a walk after my tantrum. I wonder what my lover will say when he returns to my household only to notice that my bathroom mirror is missing.

I walk for miles- barefoot, mind you. As I pass, I hear the brawl of frat houses. I pause to eavesdrop on their conversations: “So he turns himself into a pickle. His name is Pickle Rick. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen.” As they share cheap beer and cigarettes in their front lawns.

My god, I’m so lonely. I want to join them out of mere desperation for human contact. They aren’t my type, though. I’m an artist- I’m unconventional, and they’re… them. Still, I’m so fucking starved for human interaction that I approach the group on the lawn.

“Where’s the booze?” I join the group, forcing a smirk.

“Chad, that meme died long ago.” One of them scoffs.

“Hello?” I furrow my eyebrows at the group. “I asked you a question.”

Chad turns his back to me as he walks towards the garage. “Screw off, Kyle.”

“I’m right here!” I shout, yet, they continue to ignore me. It’s like I don’t even exist to them. I turn my heels with a huff. Fuck this. Should have known that fratboys have no time for me, I’m fucking abhorrent. I know this- yet, I still decided to approach them. How stupid am I?!

The voice in my head returns. _How long are you going to keep this up?_

  
  


In the blink of an eye, I wake up in my bathtub again.

The pink water is shallow and the drain is open. I stare as it drains away in the shape of a tornado before I quickly weakly wash myself off with the remaining water.

I feel weak as I emerge from the bathroom to meet my cat. He meows, and I ask him how he slept. We have a back and forth before I get dressed for work. The sun is shining, and the crickets are chirping through my window. Hopefully, today will be good.

Until it isn’t. I try my best, but the other waiters take my tables. I try my best, but nobody looks me in the eye. I try my best for the first hour, I struggle but I try. That is until I overhear the barkeep and my manager speak:

“Have you seen Abigail?”

“Nah. She ghosted us.”

“Ah. What a shame. She was a good waitress.”

“That’s bullshit- _I’m right here!_ ” I scream over the mahogany counter. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

They change the subject to the Eagles game as I rant.

Fuck it, I’ve had enough. I make my way over towards my manager and smack him in the face- nearly as hard as my mirror. “I’m right here. I’m right here, damnit!” My hand slaps his face again, again, again until I’m absolutely worn. As I glance up to his face, I notice that it’s unscathed. Untouched. I reach out to his hairy arm and my hand literally passes through his body. 

...This _can’t_ be happening. What the hell is going on?! 

Where is my phone- where is my phone?!

Oh. It’s in my apron pocket.

**[From: Dad]**

Haven’t heard from you in a while.

I’m worried about you.

Call me when you need me.

**[From: Gab]**

Bruh

So I’ve been writing this fic where there’s this sexy gangster and I like it a lot

Yo are you okay? Long time no talk

**[From: Ben]**

Why won’t you call me back

Hello?

I don’t know where this is coming from

I love you

**[From: Unknown Number]**

THIS ISN’T REAL, DIPSHIT

  
  


Why do I keep waking up in my bathtub?

Why the hell am I in my parents’ house? Not even their current house- but the one I grew up in?!

The water splashes against my knees as I hear my cellphone ring.

I pick it up to watch a multitude of text banners pop up on my screen from an old friend. She’s at my door, waiting for me to answer.

 _Damn._ I seethe, grabbing for a towel. I didn’t expect company today, I didn’t want company today. Yet, I tell her that I’m on my way as I rush to my room to get dressed in my oversized sweater and high-waisted leggings.

When I open the door, she says ‘golan pls’. 

I couldn’t help but laugh as she entered my home and stepped up the stairs. We walked to my room and watch cartoons on my television. Eventually, I got hungry and microwaved a plate of turkey bacon for the two of us. She told me that I’m her best friend. I wonder where my boyfriend went and why he won’t text me back. As she throws a blanket over my dog to test his intelligence, I watch the ominous crow perch itself onto the closest tree to my window. 

I wake up in my flooded bathtub. I’m used to it at this point. The bright red water scatters over the porcelain edges as I sit up with half-lidded eyes. I pull the drain and watch the water tunnel before I lean against the stone tiles of my studio apartment bathroom.

He punched a hole in my wall yesterday after he screamed at me. He was belligerently drunk. Everyone tells me that I should leave. I give him another chance. He’s playing video games like nothing happened, though. Maybe I won’t be so sick of his shit tonight. That exacto knife from my toolkit sounds awfully tempting. 

I wave at the crow perched on my toilet. He waves back with his wing.

“Do you get it, yet?” He says.

I do.

I wake up in my bed.

Pleats of sunlight from my window blind me.

I retrieve my phone.

**[From: You]**

Hey, are you doing okay?


End file.
